


Hot, Like Fire

by Caffiend



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, F/M, Oral Sex, Sexy Bucky Barnes, Vigorous Sex, Wrestling, big close families, heavy duty making out, idiot overprotective brothers, riding on bucky's motorcycle, samoan families, thigh riding, warrior bucky barnes, woman of color and bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: My contribution to @allaboardthereadingrailroad‘s WOC Marvel Diversity Challenge. In which Bucky wants to ask a girl out on a date. But he has to wrestle her brother for the privilege.18+ for language and sex. Though it’s with Bucky, so I doubt any of you will be displeased.My phrase to fit in here somewhere is:  “You know I can’t say no to a dare.”
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/OFC, Bucky Barnes/woc
Comments: 33
Kudos: 46





	Hot, Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> My hubs and I sort of adopted three Samoan brothers who came here to play college football. They’re gigantic and goofy and they’re fucking adorable. And after getting to know their family a bit, I can see why they turned out to be such amazing guys. Also, my Latu has already informed my nine-year-old daughter that she’s never going out on a date unless the guy can arm-wrestle him and win.
> 
> Please know that everything I've written here is with love and respect and a sincere hope that I have represented this culture correctly.

Your first clue that your birthday party just took an abrupt left hand turn into What The Fuck Is Going On-Ville was a gleeful shout from your cousin Sefina. 

“Teuila! You have more guests to greet!” Her voice was happy and excited. Too happy. And far too anticipatory. Sefina was never any of these things.

“Oh, yeah?” You were already making your way to the gate of your parent’s gigantic backyard in Greenport, just on the tip of Long Island and one of the less likely places for a big clan of extended family from Samoa to settle. You’d grown up accepting that your classmates’ main education about Pacific Islanders came from watching _Moana._ But getting hired at Stark Tower and working intel support for the Avengers meant there were always far more exciting and exotic creatures than you. Rounding the corner, you asked, “Is it the O’ Connells? Mom said they’d be coming-”

Standing at the gate was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Holding gifts.

“Oh, fuck!” you blurted before cringing. Your cousin was hovering with a huge grin and her finger quivering over the camera image on her phone. Your hand shot out like a python’s, seizing her wrist. “Don’t you dare,” you hissed between the gritted teeth of your uneasy smile.

“Teuila, you did invite us to your birthday party, remember?” Steve’s smile never faltered, even when your eyes went cartoonishly wide.

“Yes! Of course, Steve! _(’But I didn’t think you’d actually come!’)_ Hey, Bucky - I hope you guys are hungry because my Tinā isn’t letting you go until you you’ve popped the button on your pants.” 

You could feel your face heating up when Bucky burst into laughter. “I’ll take that challenge.”

“Happy birthday,” Steve gave you a polite hug and handed over your gift just as your parents rounded the corner. There was a flurry of greetings and introductions and the two men were carted off by your gleeful relatives before you had a chance to even open their present.

Leaning against one of the posts on the deck, you watched Steve talking earnestly with a gaggle of the elder ladies about WWII and the Pacific conflict. Their eyes were shining and your Tinā put a plate piled high with desserts in front of him. You stifled a chuckle, knowing this was his second one. At last, the man with a bottomless pit for a stomach these women had always dreamt of. Bucky smiled nervously and retreated to hang out with the men when your little sister Emre asked if she could touch his biceps. You were relieved that your brothers were welcoming him into the circle around the bonfire, handing him a beer and slapping him on his metal shoulder. Latu was a legendary running back from the New York Jets and was built generally in the same size and shape as a Sherman tank but you knew he could be kind. Unfortunately, Latu could also be horrifically protective over his sisters, meaning your dates were few in high school and even though you had slightly more opportunity at Columbia University, the men in your department seemed more interested in the wafer-thin blondes on campus. You were not wafer-thin. You were sturdy. You had the thick ankles and strong legs of your ancestors and a wild, untamed mass of black curls that did whatever the hell they wanted. 

Even so, you dated. Sometimes. Had a boyfriend or two, but never long enough or one who loved you enough to be willing to face The Wrath of Latu. And your mom wondered why all the girls in the family were still single? 

By the time you and the other ladies danced the ma'ulu'ulu and your little brother was nimbly spinning a fire stick in the siva afi dance, it was clear that Steve and Bucky had been officially adopted by your family.

“That boy was staring at you the entire time you were dancing.” Your mother chuckled at your startled expression.

“Who was staring?”

She nodded at Bucky, who grinned and gave you a little wave before turning back to your brothers. “Oh, mom,” you scoffed, “he’s just like that. Bucky’s nice to everyone.” Because you just _had_ to say that... Because you just _had_ to tempt the gods, there was a triumphant shout from your idiot brother.

“Bucky and I are gonna wrestle!” Latu shouted happily. A roar of approval went up from the crowd as you marched over, seizing your co-worker by his shirt and pulling him away.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you!” you hiss at Bucky Barnes, who is looking unfairly non-bloated after gorging through at least half the roast pig.

He chuckled, looking at you fondly. (Fondly? What, seriously?) “Don’t worry Teuila, I won’t hurt your brother. But you know I can’t say no to a dare.”

“I’m not worried about you hurting him, you ass!” You’re picturing the letter from Stark HR when they fire you for letting Bucky be killed by your gigantic-ass brother. “I’m worried about him hurting you!”

Bucky looks surprised and a little insulted. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Bucky, I know you are Death on Two Feet to anything resembling Hydra. But here at my birthday party in my parent’s backyard, I know you’re going to be all nice and polite because that’s who you are!” You poked your finger into his chest and- well, damn! It was like poking a boulder! Oh, my… “Anyway, Latu is a complete dickhead and he will not be nice! He will picture you with the face of Tom Brady holding an over-inflated football and he will attempt to murder you. He cannot help himself. He put my first boyfriend into a quote, ‘friendly’ headlock and Mike was in traction for five weeks!”

It was like Bucky wasn’t even listening. He was still looking down at you with that unnervingly fond smile. “But you’re single now, right? Mike’s not in the picture?”

This derailed you from your efforts to keep his spine un-snapped. “What?”

“You’re single now,” pursued Bucky. “Because after I wrestle your brother down to the ground, I would like to take you out on a date.”

Your voice always went up in pitch when you were flustered, and right now you sounded like helium escaping from a balloon. “You do?”

“Yes,” he nodded firmly, a strand of his long hair escaping his man bun. Lips attempting to shape a sentence, you simply stared at him. For the first time, this stupidly beautiful man looked uncertain. “I … if you’d like to, I mean.”

“Is there a woman in North America who _wouldn’t_ like to go out with you?” you blurted incredulously, cringing immediately when he gave you that knowing grin.

Bucky leaned over and kissed you on the cheek, and you drew in a hasty little breath. God, he smelled so good… like Coney Island on the first day of summer. Like fresh-cut grass. Like the ocean after a stormy day. “Then that’s a yes?”

Before you could answer, of course, Latu, the Boyfriend Killer shouted, “Hey! No touching my sister, Soldier! Not unless you can kick my ass!” And of course, all your idiot brothers, cousins, and uncles laughed uproariously, as if such a thing could never, ever happen.

Blue eyes alight with mischief, Bucky leaned in again. “I promise. I won’t kill him and I won’t let him beat me up too much, okay?”

“Oh, god,” you moaned, but by then that good-looking son of a bitch was heading toward the hulking mass of your brother, pulling off his shirt.

Your dad put an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not too late for me to stop this, manamea,” he chuckled.

Tilting your head against his big, solid shoulder, you sighed. “Yeah, you know that’s not happening. Look at those morons!” Your two younger brothers were gleefully creating an improvised wrestling ring with lawn furniture and the sandy section of the backyard facing the beach. All the partygoers were eagerly clustering around Latu and Bucky, who were pretending to trash talk each other.

Your Uncle Iosefa stepped to the center of the sand and raised one meaty arm. “Here we are!”

“Again…” you mumbled, and you felt your father’s chest jolt you as he laughed.

“Two strong men,” continued Iosefa “Latu…” Your idiot brother raised his fists over his head, pumping them gleefully and trotting around the ring. “And our new friend James.” He paused for a moment, then dipped his head respectfully to a startled Bucky. “Thank you for your service, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thank you for your service.” The reply rose in a cloud of soft murmurs from your family, and tears stung your eyes.

The moment abruptly ended as your uncle clapped his hands together loudly. “To the challenge! Latu wishes to defend the honor of his sister, Teuila.” You rolled your eyes. Yeah, that was it. Your honor. “And James here wants to take Teuila out on a date!” A round of hooting and laughing rolled through your family, as if such a thing was too shocking to believe. You could see Steve speaking earnestly to Bucky, who kept shaking his head, eyes never leaving the jeering ones of Latu, the Co-worker Spine-Snapper. 

Giving up, Steve moved over to you. “I tried, Teuila. You know I did. The punk can never turn down a dare.”

“I know,” you groaned. 

Uncle Iosefa was on a roll. “What are the rules for Sua family wrestling?”

“NO RULES!” everyone shouted happily, and it was on.

The minute your uncle backed out of the ring the two men charged at each other. There was no grace, no finesse, just two testosterone-fueled morons intent on getting the other down on the ground and howling “I give!” first. There was a resounding “thwack!” as two hugely muscled chests collided with each other, and then the grunting and muttered curses that punctuated every wrestling match you’d been forced to watch. 

Sefina walked over and handed you and Steve big red cups of punch. “Drink up,” she grinned, “this might take a while.” 

“You’re enjoying this way too much, gaoi,” you snarled, but you drank anyway. This was a lethal combination of rum, vodka, whatever was left at the bottom of other liquor bottles and a pungent red punch. Steve shrugged and downed his as well, looking - as usual - completely unaffected.

Bucky sent your gigantic brother sailing over his head with a twist of his vibranium arm, but Latu rolled out of the landing with a surprising grace and swept Bucky’s feet out from under him, but he was up and circling your brother again in the blink of an eye. The cheers and laughter from the family were deafening.

Steve sighed, “He used to be the one pulling me out of fights when we were kids.”

The two men were both red-faced, covered in sand, and using every sly, underhanded trick they could on the other. The pulse fluttered in your throat as you watched the muscles in Bucky’s deliciously thick thighs tense and flex as he dug in his heels, shoving Latu nearly backward with a growl. The sun was setting, and the red-gold glow from the bonfire was reflecting off the beautiful lines of his body, the silver and black of his arm glinting as he moved with the grace … well, the grace of a warrior. His eyes were fierce, jaw set as he circled your idiot brother, long hair flying around his face and broad shoulders. 

Sefina leaned against you, not quite drooling. “Please tell me you’re climbing that like a redwood.”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, taking another gulp of punch.

Watching carefully, you finally found Bucky’s pattern. Most of the graceful strategy behind his moves was engaging with your brother just enough to show respect for Latu’s strength without actually killing him. You only figured it out because you might have set your running schedule at the gym around Bucky and Steve’s workout sessions in the morning, where they tended to pummel each other into ground beef. It was a good ten minutes later when your 270-pound sibling flew over Bucky’s head once more, and as Latu landed he was on him in an instant, immobilizing his beefy arms. 

“Do you give?” he asked, panting.

Latu growled underneath him but reluctantly called out, “I give!” There was much cheering as Bucky reached down a hand to help him up, and with a chuckle, your brother took it. Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as your brother continued, “You can date my sister.” 

Another cheer went up. Because your family was like that.

Pulling his shirt back on, a move you noted with some regret, Bucky not-quite swaggered over to you, and Steve chuckled. “I knew he wanted to ask you out, but this is ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it,” you attempted to snarl, but your lips twisted into a goofy sort of grin as your knight in (literal) shining armor looked down at you with that fond smile again.

“Are you staying here tonight?”

You shook your head, tucking a fistful of black curls behind your ear. “No, I have to work early tomorrow, so… yeah. I’m heading back to the city.”

“Can I take you back? I have my motorcycle here.”

A ride back to your apartment on this gorgeous creature’s motorcycle? Being forced to wrap your arms tightly around his lean waist and grip his thighs with yours? Oh, hell yes! “Uh-huh,” you managed, and Bucky grinned.

Ninety minutes later and you were parked in the alley behind your apartment building, making out like teenagers on prom night. Bucky had lifted you like you were no heavier than his helmet and turned you, straddling him while his hands gripped and rubbed your generous ass in a really distracting way. Your hands were buried in that glorious hair of his, and you sighed as he ran his tongue along your lower lip.

“These plump lips,” he groaned, “I’ve wanted to kiss ‘em from the first minute I saw you. Bite ‘em…” You whimpered like a Disney princess when he nipped the lip he’d just suckled, and then slid his tongue into your mouth, toying with yours while those giant hands of his pulled you closer. You could feel the (very) generous swell of his crotch and rubbed against it, warming your core and making you worry that this was a pair of ruined underwear. Tugging on his hair, you grinned when he gave a deep groan. “You’re killing me here,” Bucky managed. “I’m supposed to take you out on a date, remember?”

“We could cut out the middleman, blow off dinner and just get right to the sex,” you moaned, kissing him again. With his arms around you, you felt enclosed, completely held and god, here’s a word you never thought you’d be using ... dainty?

He pulled you against him - hard, and ground on you one more time before releasing you with a sigh. “No, ‘Lia, we’re gonna do this right. I promised your brother.”

You dropped your forehead against Bucky’s sculpted chest. “Great. Cock-blocked by my brother. Long-distance. Nice.” Lips met your forehead in a chaste kiss and he helped you off the bike, taking you up to your apartment and waiting for you to get your door open. 

“Can we have dinner tomorrow night?” 

You squee’ed internally. “Yes, thank you Bucky,” you awkwardly cleared your throat, “I’d uh, like that.”

The next day at Stark Tower was surreal, you in your jeans and t-shirt, trying to figure out a glitch in a stealth drone’s tracking system on the roof of the building while the girls from Mergers and Acquisitions chattered over their lunch. They were talking about who was going out with who and speculating if Sam swung both ways and how he would be in a threesome. You rolled your eyes. It never ended.

“I hope that eye-roll wasn’t directed at me.”

Bucky was smiling down at you, his giant frame casting you into shadow from the sun. You stood up, absently wiping your hands on your jeans. “No, just trying to figure out this drone. Um, how are you today? Sore? Everything in working condition?”

He chuckled, “Well, that was one hell of a workout. I don’t think I’ve ever been pounded that hard.” You heard the audible gasp from the lunch group and you tried not to cackle. 

“Well, I could rub your shoulders later, or something…” you offered.

“Sure,” Bucky leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Pick you up at six?”

To your mutual credit, you both made it halfway through your appetizers at the nice little Italian cafe he’d selected before requesting the entree be placed in a to-go container, (and the tiramisu for dessert, you weren’t forgetting that) and then you were in Bucky’s apartment with your shirt off and you were flying - flying! - through the air and onto his enormous bed. You landed hard enough to bounce twice before he was on top of you, one hand in those impenetrable curls of yours and the other covering your breasts, long fingers stroking along the skin and teasing your coffee-colored nipples into painful, tight little peaks. 

Bucky made a very satisfying growling noise as one hand slipped to your ass, squeezing greedily. “Your curves, honey. The shape of you…” he stopped kissing you long enough to hover over you, pulling off his shirt before returning to his shameless groping. “I knew you’d feel this way. So soft, juicy, like a peach.” His lips traveled down your neck, pausing to bite your shoulder. “Or a pineapple? All prickly at first, but sooo sweet inside…” He did that wildly arousing growling thing again as your thighs tightened around his narrow hips. You felt his soft hair tickling along your stomach before his mouth met your center. The flush of insecurity made you move your hips away. He looked up, plush lips already shiny. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m…” you gestured at yourself. “I don’t shave all bare and stuff, like most of the Manhattan glamazons…”

Resting his chin on your nest of black curls, Bucky looked up at you with a grin. “Glamazons?”

“Yeah,” you were acutely aware of this beautiful man between your legs, massive shoulders keeping you spread wide and feeling exposed. “You, know, size twos? Blonde, waxed all over the place?”

Unfairly nuzzling your clitoris, Bucky asked, “Why would I want one of them?” His tone was indifferent, he was still focused on your center and your toes curled a little. “Stick insects, Steve and I call ‘em. Look like you’d break a rib if you tried to hug them. And they have that weird shit they inject into their lips?” He made a vague motion with his hand and you laughed.

“Restylane,” you answered.

“Why would I want that,” his hands were moving again, squeezing and groping and stroking along your hips and waist, “when I can be kissing you? Besides…” Despite your startled shriek, he easily flipped you over onto your stomach, sliding up to cage you between his arms and sliding a thick thigh between yours. He began rubbing it against you, his lightly furred skin tickling your sensitive lips, tickling your clitoris. Biting the back of your neck, Bucky whispered, “I can play rough with you, can’t I, honey? And you can bite me and scratch and anything you want.”

Just on principle, you reached back to grab his hair and yank again, loving the sound of his groan. “Anything I want, huh?” Your voice was embarrassingly high again, and you arched your back, pushing your center down on that meaty thigh, making his skin slick. “Then make me come, please. I love your thighs, they’re - OH!” He’d flipped you over again, hauling you upright as he sat back on his heels, gripping your waist and ass and moving you over his leg. It was a ridiculously short amount of time before you gasped your orgasm into his neck.

“That’s so pretty,” Bucky groaned, “I wanna hear that again.” He lifted you with startling ease and held his cock with one hand, placing you over him and beginning to slide you down. “Fuuuuck,” he gasped, “I knew you’d feel like this. Hot, like fire. I was frozen for decades, ‘Lia. I never wanna be cold again. You feel - fuck!” Hands on your hips, he began moving you up and down on the weight and thickness of his cock, spreading you wide, pushing your breasts hard against his chest. You were both sweating and gasping, skin slick and marred with red streaks from scratching each other.

Your head tilted back bonelessly, staring out the skylight in his bedroom. You knew Bucky would be huge, but … god, he was spearing up inside you, pulling you open wide and buried deep enough to feel his heavy balls against your ass. He’d made you so slick and he was whispering hoarsely into your ear, how pretty you were. How warm. How good you made him feel and how he was gonna make you come until you screamed for him. And all you could think was, ‘How did I get so fucking lucky?’

Bucky did make you scream, eventually, gripping your ass again and grunting, “Do that thing with your hips, ‘Lia? Like you did in the dance?”

“Uh…” you were trying to get two brain cells free from your blistering orgasm to think again. “The ma’ulu'ulu?” You started swirling your hips fluidly in a figure eight, then reversing and swaying side to side, gripping his cock inside you as you moved. Grinning as you heard him groan even louder, you did it again. And again until you were coming - again - and he was coming and you were both gloriously loud and noisy about it and then falling back onto the mattress, laughing and flushed and sweaty. 

“Perfect,” Bucky finally managed to pant, still kissing you, “you’re perfect, ‘Lia.”

And buried under hundreds of pounds of muscle and vibranium, you believed him, putting your arms around his broad shoulders and nuzzling his neck. “So are you, pele.”

Pele - honey

Maula’ulu - a group dance performed by the women

Manamea - sweetheart

Gaoi - brat


End file.
